In Flew Enza
by EmmFiction
Summary: Fate has a way of catching up with you... A rainstorm ruins Edward Masen's plans for a baseball game, and on this day in September 1918 he finds himself at home, where he meets Arabella Lindon. Pre-Twilight. B x E
1. Rain

This story was originally posted on Twilighted, under my pen name Emm. Thank you to my wonderful beta, VJGM...who offered a ton of help during this story.

I was inspired by a few things while writing this story. First & foremost, the children's poem about the Spanish Influenza that reads:  
I had a little bird, and its name was Enza.  
I opened a window, and in flew Enza.

I was also inspired by the Nightworld series written by L....or at least her concept of soulmates.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Twilight. Ownership belongs to the wonderful Stephenie Meyer.

* * *

_September 1918_

The rain pelted against the leaded glass in the window of his mother's parlor. Edward Masen sighed, and leaned his forehead against the cool glass. At this moment, he should have been rooting for the Cubs. However, Mother Nature had not deemed it necessary to answer his pleas for fair weather. As if she was listening to his lamentation, a bolt of lightening split the sky.

"Edward," his mother's soft voice drifted into his thoughts. Edward lifted his head from the glass, and turned toward his mother, who was gliding towards him.

He was feeling slightly out of sorts, and blamed it on the fact that he wasn't at the baseball game. The gloomy weather did nothing for his mood, and his mother had begged him to be the perfect gentleman when her friends were over that afternoon for tea. All in all, Edward didn't truly mind. The Chicago Suffragettes were all entertaining ladies, and he believed in the cause that they fought for.

These women had more merit to their opinions than most of the girls his own age. Those girls were all busy pretending they were mature Gibson girls and experienced flirts. These days, they all wore their hair shorn short and bold lipstick on their lips. Often, they would hide behind the school, stealing puffs of cigarettes from men passing by.

Call him old fashioned, but while Edward could accept the slightly shorter hemlines; the ones that just passed their knees were slightly indecent. On the other side of the spectrum, were those who envisioned themselves debutants and wore ridiculous hobble skirts. Mary Ellen Jafferty, a girl a year older than him, had fallen down her family staircase and broke her neck wearing such a garment. Although these days, a threat much worse than a silly hobble skirt threatened Chicago.

A line from the children's rhyme flickered through his heavy head – _I opened the window and in flew Enza._

"Edward dear, may I introduce you to our newest member?" Elizabeth Masen smiled at her son, her green eyes twinkling with humor.

Edward ran his hand through his reddish hair that so matched hers. He smiled crookedly at her, and she nodded her head, pleased.

"Of course, Mother," he turned his attention to the two women standing a little behind Elizabeth. "How do you do? It's always a pleasure to meet a friend of my mother's. I'm Edward."

The older of the two women, gracefully held out her hand to him, and he dutifully kissed the knuckles. "A pleasure, indeed. My name is Caroline Lindon." Her tones were clipped, and Edward heard in them a bit of New York.

She was a handsome woman – and once might have been beautiful. Her graying black hair was pulled back into an elaborate twist, and was covered with an ornate hat. Caroline's waist was unnaturally slim hinting at an old fashioned corset. And the style of her dress was a few years out of date, but even Edward could tell that it was newly and richly made. "And this is my daughter, Arabella. She will be joining your school in a week or so."

Edward bowed to the younger lady, and his green eyes widened in shock. It wasn't that she was beautiful to the standards that many considered to be beautiful. Rather, she was hauntingly pretty. Her hair was a rich sable, and her chocolate eyes were wide. Her skin was pale, her body slim.

"Go-good day, Miss Lindon," Edward stuttered, blushing slightly. It suddenly felt too warm in his mother's parlor. He cleared his throat in part to excuse his stutter.

"Hello, Mr. Masen. I've heard such lovely things about your family," Arabella smiled, revealing perfect teeth. She too blushed, and Edward thought he had never seen a lovelier sight. "Please call me Arabella, and I shall call you Edward."

"Well Edward, I will be over in the dining room speaking about this weekend's rally. Why don't you show Miss Lindon the piano? My son plays beautifully," Elizabeth murmured to Caroline as they walked through the door way. The two women seemed pleased that their offspring would be able to have a polite conversation.

Edward tugged at the collar of his shirt, suddenly feeling warm. Why did they expect him to entertain the girl? If not for the rain he wouldn't have even been at home today.

Arabella appeared to be close to him in age, maybe a year younger. In another year or so, she would marry.

Not him of course, he was much too young for marriage and didn't even need to think of such a thing for another six to seven years. He hadn't even started to sow most of his wild oats yet. Unlike most of his friends, Edward actually cared about his education and wanted to be a lawyer like his father.

Arabella coughed, her face still flushed as she smiled shyly at him. "So, Edward, what are **your** thoughts on the women's movement?"

"That's a bold question," he chuckled. "Didn't your mother teach you that you should always start a conversation with a stranger in regards to the delightful weather?"

"Well, we both know that's a lie!" She laughed just as a boom of thunder shook the house. She sat down at the piano bench, and smoothed her hands over her hair.

She wasn't radically dressed, but her hair was bobbed in the popular style. He was pleased to see that her skirt only reached mid-ankle, and revealed a pretty pair of lace up boots. Her eyes were filled with humor. And Edward couldn't help but notice that she was intelligent.

"Do you play?" Edward asked, unable to draw his eyes away from hers. She wasn't wild like some of the girls he knew, but she was bold and spoke her mind. He wasn't sure whether or not he liked that about her. And usually, he could read people pretty well, however she was a closed book, except for what her eyes revealed.

Arabella tilted her head, and narrowed her eyes at him. "Oh, but you're cheating. You still haven't answered my question."

"Of course I think women deserve the right to vote," he said. "My father has always treated my mother as his equal, and it disgusts me to think that there are men who feel women are inferior to them."

She looked surprised, and Edward knew then that while she believed in the movement, her mother only played at it.

"Do you think I'm your equal?"

"Yes," Edward answered simply, and then stared pointedly at the piano.

Arabella followed his gaze and laughed, as her fingers danced across the keyboard. "And yes, I play." Her laughter turned to a cough, and Edward hurried to get her some lemonade.

"Your Edward brings out a strange reaction in my Bella. Usually, she's pretty quiet," Caroline murmured to Elizabeth.

Edward's mother watched as her son left the dining room with a glass of lemonade and aided the girl in abating her cough. She smiled as his fingers joined Arabella's on the keyboard and he played the melody to the song.


	2. Window

As always, thank you to my wonderful beta, VJGM.

* * *

Edward listened in awe to the short song Arabella played on the piano. He had never heard it before. It was complex, showing a level of skill that rivaled his own. He had never met another person who also composed songs.

Once she played the last note, she cracked her knuckles in a very un-ladylike way and looked at him out of the corner of her eye.

She was flushed, but Edward couldn't tell if it was from embarrassment or the heat of the parlor."That was beautiful, Miss Lindon," he applauded softly.

"Please - call me Arabella, Miss Lindon seems like it belonged to another time and place. With this War going on, how could anyone still be so formal and stuffy?" Arabella raised an eyebrow.

Edward laughed at the mild insult. He had never been called stuffy before.

It was true, though. The War had lowered a lot of expectations. Out of necessity, women who had never lifted a finger before were now working. And not only working, but doing the jobs that men had done for decades. Fathers, Sons, Brothers, and Friends left for Europe. The lucky ones came back. Edward knew his mother feared for him since the age of the draft had been lowered. However, there were talks of peace looming. Everyone was tired of fighting, tired of burying their family members.

"Alright, Arabella, fair enough. May I ask what brings your family to Chicago?"

Arabella blushed, and looked away again. Edward could tell that she was ashamed of something. "One of Father's friends invited him here, for a job partnership." She didn't elaborate, and Edward didn't push. "I miss New York, though; it was less windy there."

Compared to his tall stature she was very tiny. An image of Arabella Lindon helplessly floating down the street caused him to chuckle.

"What's so funny?" Arabella poked him in the ribs.

"I was just imagining you flying away in a gust of wind."

"Oh, that's horrible Edward!" She blushed and laughed, shaking her head. "I shall have to buy shoes with lead soles to prevent that from happening."

"It's because of ladies like you that Chicago has a shortage in lead," he teased.

"Do you usually stay at home being a brute to your mother's guests?"

"Only on the days that it rains. Actually, if I had had my way, I would be watching the Cubs crush their opponents."

"Baseball," she mused. "Father is a fan of the Dodgers and took me to a game at Ebbet's field once. Truthfully, though, I didn't see what the big fuss was about."

Edward shook his head in disbelief. "Miss, you may call me names, spit on my doorstep and kick my dog. However, I draw the line at insulting baseball."

Arabella blushed again, and sputtered, "I-I'm sorry! It was exciting in a way...how they ran so fast and um, hit the balls far."

Edward laughed, and stood stretching. They had sat at the piano playing for quite some time. Edward could hear from the sounds of the other room that half of his mother's guests had already left.

Sure enough, Caroline came to the entranceway to fetch her daughter.

"Dearest, we must be leaving. Your father is having one of his business associates over for dinner," she said meaningfully.

Edward crinkled his nose in disgust. It was evident that she hoped to marry her daughter off to this man. Which could mean a few things - the man was disgustingly wealthy, or he was extremely powerful.

"Yes, Mother." Arabella's demeanor changed, and she suddenly seemed shyer, more fragile. As if a strong wind would come by and rip her apart. Edward could tell that she had only recently cut her hair, because she shifted her face so that she could hide behind a curtain of hair that was no longer there.

Elizabeth picked up on this, and placed her arm around the girl's shoulders. "Did you and Edward have a good time? I'm sure you would have much rather been talking about the rally, but your Mother feels you are too young."

Arabella relaxed under Elizabeth's gentle manners. "Yes, ma'am. Your son plays like an Angel...And Mother feels I'm too young for much, but not for others."

Edward raised an eyebrow at the angry flush spreading across Arabella's cheeks as she looked towards her mother. To save them from an argument, he closed the lid of the piano with a bang. "I don't know about an Angel...before you say that, you should listen to my mother play. Now, she deserves the title of Angel."

"Edward," his mother said lovingly. "Dear, why don't you take Arabella to the Lincoln Park Zoo tomorrow?"

The girl in question blushed, but nodded eagerly. "I would love to Edward. I hope that they have penguins. Those little, funny birds are so sweet."

Edward cleared his throat, but nodded. "Tomorrow, then." Truthfully, he wouldn't mind getting to know Arabella a little better. However, he wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea of the zoo.

Mother and son watched through the window as the last of their guests left the town house. The two women donned their linen face masks to protect against the Spanish Influenza, and walked briskly towards their car where a chauffeur waited for them.

Edward turned to his Mother and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Now, Edward, they are new to the area and besides, Arabella is a sweet girl. I'm worried about her; Caroline has big plans. And, I think her father might be involved with the Crime scene," Elizabeth frowned.

As the temperance movement gained momentum, there were rumors that the federal government would soon be passing a prohibition law. Already, there were those perfecting the art of making alcohol. The crime rate in Chicago had risen drastically in the past five years.

"And that's a perfect reason for me to get involved with her?" Edward laughed, but hugged his mother. Her frown turned into a joyful smile, and she hugged him back. Elizabeth had always wanted a daughter, and while she knew Edward wouldn't marry this girl, she hoped that at the very lease they would become good friends.

From the depths of the house, a shrill noise sounded and both Elizabeth and Edward looked up and towards the kitchen area where the house phone was kept. Their housekeeper appeared a moment later, her face drawn and pale. "Ma'am, that's a Dr. Cullen at St. Anthony's...he says that Mr. Masen has just been brought it. Ma'am...it's the Flu."

The gaiety that had been present in Elizabeth's face drained, and her body slackened against him. Edward helped his mother sit down, and turned towards the housekeeper. "Doris, are you certain?" His voice cracked. This was their worst fear brought to their door step. Edward Masen meant the world to his wife and son.

"Yes, sir. I'm certain."

Edward turned his back and leaned his head against the window again. He felt angry tears building, but refused to shed them. There was a chance his father would survive. He hoped that this Dr. Cullen was a miracle worker and not just one of many tired doctors who were losing the battle.

He heard the rustle of silk behind him and saw his mother standing and twisting a handkerchief. "Edward, I am going to St. Anthony's. Please stay home tonight. I - I don't know what I would do if something happened to you." Unlike her son, Elizabeth's tears were flowing without pause.

Edward hugged his mother and nodded. The hospital was close enough that he knew his mother would walk and not bother taking their new vehicle. She donned her face mask and left the house. Her walk was purposeful, and Edward admired her courage. His parents truly loved one another. He knew she would sit by his father's bedside helping to care for him until he got better.

Edward was fearful; he knew his world was changing. His father had been working on a case for the past week, and had been staying at his office. It had been more than a few days since Edward last saw his father. All it took was a few days for someone to fall victim to this plague. All it took was a few days for someone to die from this illness. It wasn't uncommon for someone to go into the hospital at night and be dead by morning.

Edward cursed long and fluently, using words that would have had Elizabeth washing his mouth out with Lye. He banged his fist against the wall, and the glass in the window pane shuddered under the force.

That blasted bird Enza had finally flown through their window.


	3. Interlude

Thank you to everyone who has read my story so far. I have never been to Chicago, and obviously I wasn't even a figment of someone's imagination in 1918, so there has been a lot of research going into the historical aspects of this tale.

Twilighted Beta: vjgm

* * *

The warmth on Edward's face was uncomfortable enough to wake him. As soon as his eyes opened, the rest of his body's pains greeted him. Groaning, Edward uncurled himself from the window seat in the parlor where he had fallen asleep. There wasn't a muscle in his body that didn't ache. He was still wearing his clothes from yesterday, and his mouth tasted as if he had eaten cotton.

He stretched, pulling his arms high above his head. A loud crack from his vertebrae paid him for his efforts. A quick glance at his watch told him that it was only ten a.m. Edward cocked his head, listening for a noise in the house to indicate that his mother had come home.

Edward knew that she wouldn't have, yet that did not stop him from trying to wait up for her. He wanted to be there for her if, and when she came home.

_I could go to St. Anthony's,_ he mused, but quickly dashed that idea.

These days you couldn't just go to a hospital to visit. The risk of infection was too high. He knew that wouldn't have stopped Elizabeth though. She would have simply charmed or bullied her way into her husband's room. Just as Edward knew she would drag him out of the hospital by his ear if he even attempted to meet her there.

His throat felt scratchy as he wandered down the hall to the kitchen, grabbing a glass of milk.

"Sir," Doris, the housekeeper, said kindly as she handed him a plate with some food. Edward dropped down at the table that was there and poked around at the food. He was exhausted, and not very hungry, but he knew that he would need the strength.

After all, it would be impolite to fall asleep while taking Arabella to the zoo.

Edward groaned, running a hand through his tousled bronze hair. He would have to call the Lindon's and apologize. How could he even think about going to the zoo when his father could very well be dying? He remembered the happiness that had shown in his mother's green eyes and groaned again; he would go to the damn zoo because he knew it would make her happy and lord knew she needed something to be happy about.

Plus, if he was being honest, he missed bantering with the girl. It was so easy to make her blush, and he never knew what she would say next. Spending a day with Arabella Lindon would keep him from moping around the house. He knew Doris would eventually throw something at him if he kept her from cleaning her prized possession.

Washing up and dressing was perhaps one of the most tedious activities he had had to accomplish in a long time. His body still did not forgive him for last night's sleeping arrangement. Edward looked at himself in the mirror and shrugged; it would have to do. He had crammed his hair under a hat, and had changed into a polite suit.

He contemplated taking the Model T, but had a feeling that Caroline Lindon would not let her daughter out in that. Bemusedly, he wondered if Caroline would accompany them as a chaperone.

Edward took a cab to the fashionable Ravenswood Manor section of the North Side.

The Lindon home was a modest house built in the Shingle style. From the gate he could see Arabella sitting on a porch swing reading with a pair of spectacles perched on her nose smiling to herself. He cleared his throat, and grinned as he watched her jump and quickly snatch the glasses off of her face. Edward couldn't be sure, but he thought she shoved them under a pillow.

"Good morning, Edward!" She walked down to the gate, pushing it open. "You look like you haven't slept. I haven't ever seen a shade of purple as deep as the shadows under your eyes."

"Are you sure you're looking properly?" He tilted his head meaningfully in the direction of the porch swing. He was awarded with a blush.

"You saw them, hmm?" Arabella placed her hands on her hips. His attention was automatically brought to the deep blue of her skirt. She wore a simple white blouse with a broach that had lapis lazuli on it. "I'll have you know that I see perfectly well without them, Mr. Masen."

"Of course, Miss Lindon."

It was easy to forget his problems when he was with Arabella. He was tempted to confide in her about his family's trouble, but knew better. She might not care, but as soon as the words hospital and influenza left his lips, her mother would have him booted from the property.

Arabella's eyes were unnaturally bright and her pale skin flushed. He couldn't help but admire her.

"How was your meeting with your future husband last night?" He leaned against a tree in the front yard, enjoying the coolness of the shade. Yesterday's storm had left the air muggy and hot.

She blushed, and looked at the ground. "It went well," she answered shyly, looking at him from under her lashes. "But, then I met father's friend."

Edward blushed, and choked. Was there anything that this girl would not say? "Your mother seems to think that he's perfect for you."

"Mother can go shove -"

"Arabella!" Caroline Lindon gracefully walked out of the front door. "Oh, good morning, Edward! I had thought Elizabeth mentioned she would be coming by? I had wanted to show her the clever tea cups Alva Vanderbilt gave away at one of her Lady's teas in Newport." Caroline looked somewhat crestfallen.

"I apologize. Mother...Mother had another engagement she had forgotten about," Edward lied.

"Oh, dear," she suddenly brightened. "Well, perhaps I will come by tomorrow to show her. I think having a public tea with darling tea cups is just what the Chicago Suffragettes needs!" Caroline waltzed back into the house.

Arabella looked after her mother with a slack jaw, and numbly shook her head. Edward laughed at her expression. "If they call Alva Vanderbilt the Bulldog, does that make your mother the Spaniel?"

Edward was rewarded with the most delicious sound he had ever heard - Arabella laughing without abandon. "You're awful. If she heard you say that, she would not let you take me to the zoo un-chaperoned."

He raised an eyebrow, "And how did I manage that in the first place?"

"You're too young to be a threat," Arabella said coyly. "As far as the Spaniel's concerned, I'm as good as engaged. For someone who wants women to have rights, she has no problem arranging a marriage for her only daughter to a man twenty years older than her!" Arabella groaned, and followed him down the road.

"Why don't you just say no?"

"Ha! That's easy enough for you to say," she replied bitterly, biting her lip. There was a deep sadness in her eyes that Edward didn't like. Before he could say something terribly foolish, she changed the subject. "Are you sure everything is alright with you Edward? You do look awful."

"I'm fine," he nodded. "Just tired." It wasn't his place to burden her with his problems. His parents had raised him a gentleman, and it would behoove him to remember that.

They walked in silence for a bit, and Edward watched her out of the corner of his eye. It was easy to see that she hadn't lived in Chicago long, because her eyes were wide with wonder. Her right hand firmly clasped her hat to her hair, and Edward was entranced by the small pearl earrings she wore. They soon entered Lincoln Park, and passed by the old Couch mausoleum.

"Oh! Edward, are those paddle boats?" Arabella smiled, and tugged his coat pointing to the lagoon. "After we see the penguins, can we rent a boat?"

Edward couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm. "Maybe, I still remember you insulting baseball yesterday..."

"Can I ever make it up to you? I will become the biggest baseball fan Chicago has ever seen...but, please, can we go on the paddle boats?"

They spent the next several hours wandering around the zoo. Each exhibit had Arabella smiling and laughing. At the monkey cages, she somehow managed to convince Edward in joining her as she made faces at the animals. His excuse was that it was hot and he hadn't slept well the night before. That's the only explanation he had as to why he was hopping from foot to foot scratching his head and making 'ooh ooh' noises.

He bought her an ice cream, and they sat on a bench near a fountain eating. Arabella was looking more flushed than she did this morning, and he worried about her in the heat. However, despite her discomfort, she was enthusiastically telling him about her old home in New York on Long Island. Edward was entranced by her enthusiasm.

"Let me get this straight," he said. "You had your own beach for a backyard?"

"Oh, yes. There are these little birds called plovers that run in the water. I wish you could have seen them," she sighed happily.

They were in the middle of the lagoon when Edward cleared his throat. "My father's sick."

Arabella had been leaning over the side of the boat, trailing her fingers in the murky water. She stiffened at his words, and looked up at him, fear in her eyes. "Sick?"

"We found out last night after you left. Mother went to see him in the hospital. Perhaps God is unhappy with mankind, because if people aren't dying in the war, then they are dying in the hospitals." His tone was bitter, and his eyes burned.

"I'm so sorry, Edward. I can only imagine what you went through last night..." Arabella placed her hand tenderly on his arm. "Is he strong enough to pull through?"

"I hope so," he whispered, leaning his head forward so his hair fell in his eyes.

"Well, all we can do is hope for the best." She was fanning herself with his hat, and Edward started paddling back to the dock.

"Let's get you home before you melt."

Edward found a cab to take them back to her house, and as they drove through the city, they talked. He learned that her favorite flower was forget-me-nots, and that she loved chocolate cake. Edward told her about the time his father took him hiking in the forests and they came across a den of bears. He couldn't remember the last time he had laughed so hard.

Arabella paused at the gate of her yard, and smiled at him. "Edward, you should come by tomorrow and play the piano with me. I shall compose a new song called 'The Lamentable Monkey' and it shall be revered worldwide."

Obligingly, Edward hopped from foot to foot and said, "Ooh ooh" as Arabella laughed. He watched as she walked into her house, her skirts swaying behind her.

The Masen townhome was depressingly empty when he got home. Doris was waiting by the door for him, ringing her hands. "Edward, I have more bad news..."

Edward swore, and gripped the railing of the staircase so that his knuckles turned white. "What happened?"

"Your mother..." That was all she had a chance to say before Edward spun on his heel and walked back out the door.


	4. Dire

The first emotion that Edward felt was foolishness, quickly followed by relief, until finally, Edward felt utter exhaustion. It was the kind of exhaustion where you felt it in your bones, and your muscles sagged trying to give you the relief you so desperately needed.

He was sure that if he let Doris finish her sentence it would have ended with "Your mother called to say she would be spending the night at the hospital."

Instead, he sealed his own fate by storming off to the hospital.

His reception by the weary nurse sitting at the front desk was anything but welcoming. As soon as she ascertained that he was not ill, she politely asked him to leave.

"I'm here to see Edward and Elizabeth Masen. Mr. Masen was brought here last night," Edward politely explained in a resolute voice.

The fact that he didn't leave immediately after she asked him to, caused the nurse to look up from her dime novel. She scrutinized him with an intensity that Edward didn't like. Eventually, she sighed, "You look like the red haired harpy that came in last night demanding to see Mr. Masen. I can only assume that she is your mother. Look, kid, you appear healthy; why risk it?"

Edward felt a headache coming on so he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. Finally, he answered, "Ma'am, I'm not leaving until you bring me to my parents. Please, I just want to see my parents before..." He let his voice trail off.

The hard demeanor of the nurse melted slightly, and her voice was softer through the linen face mask. "Down the hall on the right is a quarantine room. Only the doctors go in there. Kid, you're foolish to even risk it," she shook her head. "Your father is the last cot in the middle aisle. And before you ask, we're out of extras."

Edward thanked her profusely and followed her directions. The room he entered felt like one of Dante's circles of hell. The air was fetid with disease, although the linens appeared clean and changed often. People in all stages of the sickness suffered together in this room. Seeing them like this, made Edward realize that those who passed quietly in the night were the lucky ones. In this room, there were men and women emaciated with disease, their chests sunken as they gasped for air.

He kept his eyes straight ahead as he walked down the central aisle. Out of the corner of his eye he could see that a few of the exhausted doctors gave him strange looks.

Elizabeth Masen sat in a chair next to her husband's cot holding his hand.

Edward Masen Sr.'s eyes were closed, his skin ashen. Gone was the tall, proud man Edward knew as his father. Sometime in the night, his father had been replaced with a wizened old man.

Edward's nose wrinkled at the scent of the unwashed bodies that were surrounding him and he placed his hand on his mother's shoulders.

Elizabeth jumped slightly and turned fevered eyes towards her son. "Oh, Edward," she sighed, tears building up. "What are you doing here? He wouldn't want you to see him like this."

"I was worried," he whispered. He was so relieved to see her. Her skin beneath his hand was too warm, though, and he knew that her coming to St. Anthony's had been a bad idea. "How is he doing?"

"Not good, Edward. Not good," as the words left Elizabeth's lips, a lone tear slid down her cheek. "Dr. Cullen doesn't think he will last the night." Her gaze focused on a tall, blonde haired man. Unlike the other doctors on the shift, he didn't look exhausted.

Dr. Cullen methodically went from cot to cot checking the status of his patients. At some, he smiled and patted their knees under the thin sheet. At others, he would frown and check something off on a clip board.

"Mother," Edward cleared his throat. "How do you feel?"

"I am fine, darling," Elizabeth lied to her son.

Edward sighed, and rested his head against hers. For the first time, Edward realized that his mother was wearing an oversized hospital shift, and that the cot next to his father's was empty.

Edward stood, and felt the room spin. He closed his eyes against the spots that flickered across his vision. He was vaguely aware that his legs were giving out.

A minute, maybe an hour, went by and an acrid smell finally made Edward open his eyes. A doctor had his fingers pressed against the pulse in his wrist and was shaking his head. "Son, have you been feeling ill long?"

"No," he shook his head. "I've felt fine. I've had some headaches, and have been tired, but nothing serious."

"You're running a low grade fever, and your throat is infected," the doctor shook his head, again. "I can't believe that you haven't felt sick."

"My boy is too stubborn to rest," Elizabeth murmured fondly.

Edward thought through the last few days. Both yesterday and today he had woken up with a sore throat that eventually went away. Yesterday, he felt as if he was walking through a dense cloud. But, today he had been worried about his father, and consumed by the sun that was Arabella Lindon.

He groaned as he realized that Arabella had been exposed to the sickness by him. Edward sighed and leaned back against the pillow. He hadn't realized he had fallen asleep until he woke much later in the night. He was disoriented as he tried to see in the dark room. A noise to his left caused him to glance in that direction.

Edward was in the cot on the other side of his mother. As the blonde doctor stood over his father's cot, Dr. Cullen blessed himself, then quickly lowered his head and said a small prayer over his father.

Silently, Dr. Cullen wheeled the now shrouded cot to a door in the back of the room.

A stifled sob came from the cot next to his, and Edward reached his hand out. Elizabeth gripped her sons hand and soon fell back asleep. Both wife and son knew that Edward Sr. had lost the battle.

As his own body slowly became his own worst enemy, Edward thought about his favorite memories of his father. He had been five when he was brought to his first baseball game. A flyball had been hit in their direction and his father had lifted him high into the air so that the ball would fall into the large glove on Edward's small hand.

He was ten when his father let him sit in on his first court case. Edward had paid careful attention to the proceedings and asked intelligent questions when his father was done. When he pronounced some of the Latin terms incorrectly, his father laughed, tousling his son's unruly hair.

Edward's favorite memories of his father, though, were of those that involved Elizabeth. His parents truly loved one another. They were constantly touching and kissing when they thought that no one was around.

And, now his father was gone. At least he had died unaware that his wife and son were soon to share his same fate.

For some reason, the thought of fate made Edward think of the shining, happy face of Arabella. She was definitely the most interesting thing that had happened to him. She would have been a great friend to him and he was sad that he would be breaking his promise to her. Edward could only imagine what sort of mischief she would get into. He hoped that she would live a long, happy life.

Thoughts of Arabella kept him sane over the course of the following days.

The realization that he was sick made Edward deteriorate faster.

His mother burned with fever, but remained alert. Often she nursed her own son, running cool cloths over his face.

If he wasn't selfish, he should have pushed her away, knowing that her closeness was making it all the worst for her own health. Minutes slipped into hours, and time blurred. He could have been sick for an hour or for days. His thoughts were constantly hazy, and when he slept, he imagined he could hear the pathetic thoughts of the other dying men and women. Or, he spent the night, tossing in dreams brought on by the fever.

Elizabeth watched sadly as her glorious son moaned, his hands tightly gripping the sheets. She placed a cool, wet cloth on his forehead and pushed back his tousled hair.

"Don't be absurd, Arabella," he muttered. "Silly. Very silly, Bella."

The fact that his words were still coherent made Elizabeth hopeful. Each night, she prayed that even if she did not survive, that Edward would be spared. He had so much to offer the world.

During a moment when Edward was alert and feeling slightly better, they even played a card game.

Dr. Cullen had given Elizabeth a deck of cards so she could play solitaire while she cared for Edward.

"I have a theory," Edward croaked during a game of War. At Elizabeth's raised eyebrow he continued, "I have a theory about this disease. It turns one's body into a traitor. Instead of the body protecting itself, it causes the body to slowly kill itself."

"Edward, you need to think positively...these thoughts won't make you better."

Edward laughed, and laid a Jack down on the bed. "Mother, I don't think I am getting better."

They played for a little while longer, and Edward eventually slipped into sleep. It was still daylight, and Dr. Cullen usually didn't come until later in the evening. He typically worked the graveyard shift, Elizabeth observed.

Elizabeth knew she was dying. It was a slightly comforting thought that she would soon see her husband again. But, even as death approached, she didn't want the same fate for her son. Her own breathing matched her son's ragged breathing. At least he had the relief of sleep. Elizabeth was too aware of her body's plight.

"How are you and Edward doing today, Mrs. Masen?"

Elizabeth turned her attention to the young doctor, and attempted a smile. Dr. Cullen was always so silent as he approached.

Had it really been hours since Edward had fallen asleep? It had felt like moments.

"You're too quiet, doctor."

"I'm sorry," Dr. Cullen apologized. He was looking at her curiously, and he checked her vitals. His frown made Elizabeth know that it wouldn't be long now. Edward still hadn't woken up.

She reached to him, and grasped the doctor's wrist, burning her own green eyes into his odd yellow ones. His icy skin was a welcome treat against her hot flesh. With all of her strength she begged that he do everything that he could to save her son. She begged till her voice was raw and the effort was too much. Elizabeth sank onto her pillow, and as her eyes closed with fatigue she saw Carlisle nod.

A radiant smile spread across her face, and her last coherent thoughts were, _My baby will be safe._


	5. Death

_Where was that wretch?_

Arabella cradled her face in her palm, and drummed her fingers against the window sill. She had picked out a pale blue dress that complimented her skin tone perfectly, she even tucked a fresh flower in her hair.

And the whole reason for this dress up, wasn't even remotely in sight.

Instead, her mother kept wandering around the house humming a wedding song. Arabella would have been delighted if the Spaniel, she couldn't help but giggle, was invisioning her daughter walking down a rose strew aisle toward Edward Masen. However, the sad reality of the situation was that her mother's day dreams had her marching glumly to a man, who was old enough to be her father.

She wondered if she could talk Edward into eloping.

The hope was short lived, as she realized that he really was a gentleman with slightly old-fashioned morals.

A grin spread across her face as she contemplated what fun it would be to try and change his mind. She should be allowed some fun before she gave her life away to be a broodmare for some fuddy-duddy mobster.

Arabella's grin quickly turned to a scowl as she scanned the road leading up to their new home. Had she been too forward yesterday? Did any of the words that came from her mouth offend him?

No...he said he would come see her today, and Edward didn't seem like the kind of man to break his promises.

Arabella remembered how sweet he was yesterday when he was concerned about her in the heat. She woke up this morning feeling like a million bucks. She wanted to see Edward. Maybe if she was lucky, she could make him blush. If she was really lucky he might let her touch his beautiful hair.

"If that monkey doesn't show up in five minutes I am going to scream," she grumbled to her reflection.

"Arabella, dear, if you talk to yourself like that, one might believe that you are quite mad...and no one wants to marry a girl with half her wits," Caroline chided, as she walked past.

"Yes mother," she murmured in what she hoped was the voice of one terrified at the notion of not marrying.

The times were changing, perhaps she and Edward could live as lovers? The idea made her blush and feel warm. They could run away together... Arabella sighed, and drummed her fingers even harder. This reaction to Edward Masen was strange, however as soon she met him, she knew that he was the one for her. He may not know it yet, but Arabella was up to the challenge of showing him.

"Mother, I am going to have Charles take me for a drive," she didn't wait for an answer, instead she marched out the back door to the stables which housed her father's prized automobile.

"Hi, Charlie!" Arabella called to the chauffeur dozing in a chair. The older man sputtered and reached for his cap.

"Miss Arabella!" He squared his shoulders and looked for Caroline. When the Spaniel didn't show, he relaxed. "Where would you like to go, kiddo?"

"Can you please take me to the Masens?" She cocked her head, and blinked her eyelashes.

The old man melted like wax.

She muttered something under her breath as she climbed into the passenger seat. Her mother would make her sit in the back seat, but she liked the thrill of riding in the front seat and the wind in her hair.

"What was that about mountains, Miss Arabella?"

"Oh, nothing."

Unlike yesterday, this ride did not involve wide eye wonderment. She was far too twitchy for that. Instead, she tapped her foot and wished the car would go faster.

This impatience was unlike her and somewhat bewildering. Arabella couldn't explain it, but she had to see Edward. It might have sounded slightly melodramatic to an outsider, but she truly felt that a world without Edward wasn't a very good world to live in. She was so happy she had gone with her mother that day to meet Mrs. Masen.

Still annoyed, she decided when she finally got Edward in her vision, she would attack him with her gloves.

Finally, finally, the automobile pulled up in front of the Masen's home and Arabella jumped out of it before it even stopped, ignoring Charle's protests. Instead, she stood back and stared up at the brownstone building.

It looked, and felt, empty.

The first day she had visited there had been an air of vibrancy about it. She could feel it seeping from the stone work. But today...today, it just seemed cold and forlorn.

Arabella gripped her purse and walked up the stairs. Her finger pressed the doorbell and she heard its chime echo. She waited ten minutes, then twenty.

Finally, Charles cleared his throat, there was no one home.

He was a dead man. When Arabella got ahold of him... Perhaps he was with another girl? Or maybe at a baseball game? Dejected, she walked back to the car.

The next two days passed without a word from Edward. Arabella had snuck a phone call when her mother wasn't looking, and there was no answer. She could have sworn that there was a housekeeper.

The two days she spent looking for Edward, were also two days of forced company with Mr. William Lacki, the man she was doomed to marry. Whenever she started to look sad, her mother poked her hard in the shoulder blades.

On the third day, Arabella had Charles drive her back to the Masens after dinner. She would climb through a window in order to strangle the wretch if she had to. This day, her efforts were rewarded.

"Hello," Arabella said brightly to the dour faced housekeeper that opened the door. Before the door could be slammed in her face, she continued, "I was wondering if Mrs. Masen and her son are home? Mr. Masen was supposed to come see me the other day."

The housekeeper just shook her head, and blinked fast as if trying to hide tears.

"I may have just missed him?" She offered. If that was the case, the automobile better be able to sprout wings and fly.

"Tragedy, such tragedy."

"Excuse me?"

"The young sir, and his parents. They've taken ill. His father already died from the influenza....Elizabeth and Edward, unfortunately are soon to follow. And poor Doris, alone, and without a job..." The old woman's shoulders stooped.

Arabella's world tilted beneath her feet and she struggled to stand upright. Her loose corset felt like it was choking the air out of her. She couldn't have heard right. Edward had been healthy...dammit, he had been healthy.

"I'm sorry...did you say they are ill?" She shook her head trying to force the wool out of them. She must have heard wrong.

"It's the Influenza, dear." The woman spoke slowly as if Arabella did not have any wits. "They are at St. Anthony's."

Arabella thanked Doris for her time and help, and walked slowly down the stoop. It amazed her how quickly she had grown to care for him. He had been the first and best friend she ever had. With him, it felt like her soul was complete and now, he was dying.

"Charlie, please take me to St. Anthonys," she said. Arabella had the constitution of an ox, and she challenged God to even think about making her contract the disease. Although, she would have gladly made a deal with the Devil, if it meant that Edward could somehow survive.

The hospital was perhaps one of the most depressing places Arabella ever stepped foot in, and her poor Edward was in here. She blinked back tears, and eyed the nurse sitting behind a desk. The woman had barely acknowledged her prescence, busy flipping through the worn pages of some cheap romance novel.

Arabella approached the desk and cleared her throat.

The woman looked up and eyed her. "Yes?"

"A friend of mine is here and I want to see him," Arabella's tone was matter of fact and left no room for argument.

"Miss, with the influenza there are no visitors allowed. I've already been yelled at for letting two people in, and they've both taken ill. The poor lady died this morning...it won't be long now for the boy."

A whoosh of air left her chest, and she gripped her purse tight enough for her knuckles to protest. "Do you speak of the Masens?"

"That name sounds familiar. But, truthfully, there's just too many names to match to bodies."

Arabella was sickened by the lack of caring shown in this institution. How could someone get healthy, if everyone was waiting for them to die?

The nurse went back to her novel, clearly telling Arabella that there was nothing she would help her with.

_Fine_. _If she wants to play that way,_ Arabella thought. Her mother had always said that Arabella could be quite inventive when she wanted something. And right now, she wanted to see Edward.

_Before it's too late._

Whistling a cheerful little tune, Arabella pretended to look at the paintings on the wall. When the nurse wasn't looking she slipped down a long hall. Thankfully, the doctors were all too busy to pay any attention to the fashionable lady who peered into all the doors she came across. Finally, she found the red haired boy she was looking for.

Arabella crept into the room, sick to see how many people were crammed in such a small place. Two doctors were checking on the patients, but even Arabella could tell that they were outnumbered, the poor doctors looked half dead themselves. Lifting her skirts, she walked slowly down the aisle, her heart thudding with each beat.

She knew she should be terrified of getting sick. But, at the same time, she knew deep down that she wouldn't. Finally, Edward was close enough for her to touch. With a sob, Arabella crumbled on the floor next to the cot, and held his hand, willing Edward to open his eyes and look at her.

"Edward? Edward Masen you open your eyes right now! You can't die...I won't let you!"

His chest rose beneath the sheet with labored breathing, and there was a rattling sound that made Arabella cry even harder.

The first thing she would do when she married that vile man would be to spend his money on building a new wing to St. Anthonys for the influenza patients. They deserved private rooms instead of this open cesspool. Edward was dying, and each breath he took in this miserable place was infected with disease.

A blonde doctor, who was perhaps the most beautiful man Arabella had ever seen, came over to her. Unlike the other two doctors there, he didn't seem exhausted, although there were dark shadows beneath his eyes. "Miss? Do you know this patient?"

Arabella looked at Edward and felt a tremble pull through her as she nodded. "He is a friend. Please, Doctor, is there anything you can do for him? My father has money, and I'm sure he will pay for extra care..."

It was a feeble promise. The influenza didn't care if someone was rich or poor. She knew the Masens were wealthy, and they were still treated the same as every other patient here.

"I'm sorry, we're doing everything we can," Dr. Cullen said, but Arabella felt like there was something he wasn't telling her. "Miss, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. If you like, you can stay in the hallway on a chair, but it's too risky in here." He took her elbow in a surprisingly firm grip, and led her outside the sick ward.

Arabella watched the doctor through the window of the door as he checked on his patients. Finally, he reached Edward, and Arabella could have sworn a look of immense guilt and suffering crossed the doctor's face. Arabella wondered what his inner conflict was. He eventually left the ward, and Arabella settled into a hard back chair.

"Arabella Lindon, have you _lost_ your mind!"

With a groan, Arabella turned her head to see her mother storming down the hallway. Charlie must have gotten worried and went to fetch her.

"I'm sorry, mother." She hung her head in sadness, and couldn't stop the tears that flowed. "Mother, it's Edward Masen in there..."

Caroline's nose wrinkled and she pulled her daughter to her feet. Where a week ago the name Masen made Caroline writhe with pleasure, today, it brought a look of disgust to her mother's face. The disease had tainted their name.

"And you hoped to accomplish what by coming here? Getting sick yourself? Arabella, I will not have it. If Mr. Lacki knew you were here, he would not even think of asking you to be his wife..."

"Is that all that matters, Mother? Edward is my friend." _He's more than that_, she added in her head.

"Arabella, I will not argue with you over this. Come with me, now," her mother walked back the way she came, her heels clicking.

With a sigh, Arabella looked once more in the window. Dr. Cullen was standing over Edward, and he looked around the room. He was the only doctor there and Arabella wasn't sure who he was looking for, or if he needed help. Finally, after a long moment, he stood staring down at Edward.

Again, Arabella saw the conflict on his face.

Arabella staggered and nearly collapsed as she saw the doctor lift the sheet to cover Edward's face.

_NO!_

Arabella clawed at the door trying to find a way to pull the door open. Her hands would not cooperate and she was helpless as she watched the doctor wheel him down towards the door in the back of the room.

_Wait a second_, she paused, watching Edward's body being wheeled away.

Arabella's mind was playing tricks on her. She could have sworn Edward's chest was still rising and falling. But, no, that couldn't be right. The doctor wouldn't have covered him if he was still alive.

With a heavy, broken heart, a sobbing Arabella followed after her mother.

_Edward, someday..._she thought as the tears flowed down her face.

**Chapter End Notes:**

Originally, I was going to have Arabella die from the Spanish Influenza. However, she did not want to cooperate with any death scenese. Instead her future is vague, make with it as you want.


	6. Rebirth

**Author's Chapter Notes:**

Characters belong to Stephenie Meyer.

Thank you everyone :)

And, thank you VJGM...without you I would be a walking comma catastrophe.

_September 13, 1987_

Charlie Swan looked fondly down at the tiny baby nestled in his wife Renee's arms. It took all of his willpower to keep him from bursting into tears of joy at the sight of them. He felt like he had waited his whole life for this one moment.

It had been a long evening, and during labor, Charlie had been called every name in the book by his wife, worse than he had been called by any hard-nosed crook on the street. He chuckled, recalling a few of the more colorful ones - who knew Renee could be so creative? She may have ranted and raved like a harpy, but he loved her all the more for it.

In the end, however, it was all worth it.

Nestled in his wife's arms, was pure perfection. She was small, a mere 6 pounds. Her skin was mottled red, and she had ten perfect fingers and ten beautiful toes. The baby's head was covered in short, spiky brown hair. Charlie could see a lot of Renee in her.

"Oh, Charlie, our little girl is perfect." There was such love in his wife's voice, and the baby cuddled closer.

Charlie couldn't believe that he was a daddy. He finally had his own little princess. Part of him was afraid to hold her, worried that he could crush her with one wrong move.

"Hello!"

Husband and wife turned their attention to the cheerful voice coming from the young nurse standing in the doorway. She was wearing colorful scrubs and carrying a clipboard as she snapped her gum, smiling brightly.

"Hi," Charlie said cautiously. He was afraid that this interloper would try to take his baby away to the nursery.

"I'm just here to fill out some information for the birth certificate. Do you mind answering a few questions?"

"Not at all," Renee said, cradling the baby closer. Obviously, she had the same fear that Charlie had, but there was a sigh of relief in her voice.

"Awesome. Ok, Mother's maiden name?"

"Higgenbotham," Renee answered, blushing slightly. Charlie knew the distaste that Renee had for her former last name, and used to joke that she only married him so she could change her last name.

"And the correct spelling of Swan is S-W-A-N, right?"

Both Renee and Charlie nodded.

"Charlie, is your name short for anything?"

"No, it's just plain Charlie."

"And have you decided on the kiddo's name?" The nurse turned amused eyes on their daughter.

"Bella," Charlie said. He and Renee had argued during the nine months of pregnancy as to what their angel would be called. It was Bella if it was a girl and Charlie Jr. if the baby was a boy.

"Is that short for Arabella?"

"No, it's short for Isabella," Renee said, placing a delicate kiss on top of the baby's head. "Isabella Marie Swan."

"Adorable. Alright, folks, enjoy your time with baby Bella. Your doctor will be by shortly," the nurse snapped her gum one more time, then left the room.

"Sweet, pretty Bella," Renee nuzzled the brown spiky hair on her daughters head. Charlie's heart swelled with pride, and he tentatively placed his pinky on her hand.

Bella chose that moment to open her eyes and coo.

**Chapter End Notes:**

Please review :)


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